


calamity jane isn't bulshar

by alesford



Series: our family of choice [11]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Crack Treated Seriously, F/F, Families of Choice, Fluff and Crack, I'm sorry in advance for so many things, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Original Character(s), Please just give this a chance?, it's Calamity Jane, pigeon made me do it, rated for language, the title isn't relevant, this is not going to be what you think it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 02:26:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15208799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alesford/pseuds/alesford
Summary: “No,” Nicole says firmly. “Absolutely not.”“But, mom, where else will she go? Look at her face!”Belle pouts and lifts the cat as high as she can to try to shove its face into Nicole’s.ORBelle finds a cat on her way home from school and of course it turns into more trouble than any of them expect.





	1. the bandit queen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mistyheartrbs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyheartrbs/gifts).



> This story is not going to go how you think it's going to go. But I am not going to tell you the prompt because that would spoil this crazy cracky fic. I'm sorry in advance and also kind of not.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, mistyheartrbs and everybody else who played a part in this shitstorm of a prompt.

**the bandit queen**

_get your motor runnin'_   
_head out on the highway_   
_lookin' for adventure_   
_and whatever comes our way_   
_\- 'born to be wild' by steppenwolf_

 

 

“No,” Nicole says firmly. “Absolutely not.”

“But, mom, where else will she go? Look at her face!”

Belle pouts and lifts the cat as high as she can to try to shove its face into Nicole’s.

She goes a little cross-eyed as her eyes refocus on the feline in front of her. The cat is beautiful, she’ll give it that. Some sort of lilac colorpoint with more fur than even Calamity Jane had. The size of it makes Nicole think _ragdoll_ , but she’s not a vet or even that much of a cat enthusiast.

Calamity Jane had been happenstance. Not that Nicole didn’t like cats, but she had never envisioned herself as a cat owner. Her family had a pet dog when she was growing up — a hyperactive, miniature Australian shepherd named Hashbrown that loved her older sister way more than Nicole. But never pet cats. Just the dog.

So she had never thought of herself as a cat person or even a future cat owner until that matted, orange floof turned up on her porch, half-starved and crying pathetically. She took it inside, as any person with a beating heart would, and fed her and brushed her and bathed her. And when she took the cat to the vet two days later and learned that she was probably a stray, Nicole gave her a home and a name.

But she wasn’t a cat person. Not really. Calamity Jane was special. Her first friend in Purgatory.

Nicole lifts a hand and scratches the cat’s head between its ears. Its blue eyes flutter closed and its whole body trembles with a pur. She doesn’t smile, and if she does, it isn’t in approval of bringing this new stray into their home.

“Please, mom?” Belle begs again, and she’s doing that thing with her face that she learned from Waverly that Nicole is powerless against. “Pleeease?”

Nicole sighs. Waverly is so much better at saying ‘no’. This is how her kid ends up with a stomach ache from eating that third bowl of ice cream for dinner. Or with a broken arm because she wanted to go _dirt biking_ with Wynonna and Alice. Or with welts on her back because she wanted to try paintballing.

Maybe Waverly won’t threaten to kill her over a cat?

“We need to take it to the vet clinic,” she says. “See if it’s microchipped first and if there’s anything wrong with it that we need to know. Then maybe, _maybe_ we can keep it.”

She’s still kind of heartbroken over losing Calamity Jane. The damned cat _was_ thirteen years old, but damn it, she was Nicole’s first friend in Purgatory. She stayed with her through thick and thin, and she even tried to scratch a revenant once. They’d bonded. It’s been a year, though. Her heart has surely mended enough to maybe love another cat, right?

The smile that Belle gives her as she pulls the furball close to her chest is healing enough, she decides.

“Can we go now?” her not-so-little girl asks, and the cat is still purring in her arms with its eyes closed. _Content_ , Nicole would say. _Happy_ , even.

Nicole looks down at the case files she has spread out on the kitchen table. Her watch reads 15:45, which of course it’s after three if Belle is home from school. It’s one of her days off and she’s been staring at these missing persons cases — trying to figure out how many of them are because of revenants or other otherworldly beings — since six in the morning. She hasn’t been sleeping well, and she’d rather turn her attention to work than wake Waverly because she’s having _nightmares_ about nothing of consequence.

  
(Dragged through the woods, screaming. Trying to forget about a Jack the Ripper sort of supernatural-folk. Then being shot by a normal human jackass and going to actual purgatory with a lowercase ‘p’. Meeting Willa and learning that there isn’t any choice in the matter of walking toward the light or returning to her loved ones that are still alive and hoping beyond hope that she’ll return to them. Belle and Waverly screaming for her but she can’t reach them in time. Can’t save them.

That last one hasn’t happened. Not yet. She hopes it never will.

It’s a nightmare just the same.)

 

But Belle is here and now and holding a cat that she definitely thinks might be pregnant. She’s here and asking if they can keep it and can they please go to the vet now? And Nicole is defenseless against that pout and those green, green eyes and so she sighs again and says, “Why don’t you go find CJ’s old carrier? I’ll call the clinic and see if they’ve got time to see us.”

She knows they will, though. They’re not swamped with clients, as most citizens of Purgatory are still hesitant to own a pet after all those ‘coyote attacks’ some time ago. And they always made time to see Calamity Jane around Nicole’s crazy law enforcement schedule.

She calls anyways. The number is still in her phone.

“Hey, Dr. Eisenstein, it’s Nicole Haught.”

“Sheriff Haught, haven’t I told you to call me Vigo?”

“Yes, Vigo P. Eisenstein. I think you’ve shared your name with me more times than I can count. And until you start calling me Nicole, I am going to call you Dr. Eisenstein.”

“Of course, Sheriff. What can I do for you today? Animal Control pick up another stray cat to bring in?”

A few months back, Nicole had started an initiative with Purgatory Animal Control and the Vet Clinic in order to catch the strays and barn cats in the town to have them spayed and neutered. So far, Lonnie has only been scratched four times with only one necessary first aid intervention. It’s a work in progress, and it gives Animal Control and the clinic something to do.

“No, not a stray.” She pauses before tacking on,. “Well, sort of. My daughter found a cat on her way home from school. I was hoping you might have time to check it out this afternoon?”

She hears Belle’s trainers on the basement stairs and the mewling of a very unhappy cat. She must’ve found where Waverly stored all of Calamity Jane’s things when Nicole couldn’t look at them anymore.

“I’m available now, if you would like to bring it in,” Dr. Eisenstein tells her, just as she had anticipated. “Just tell Jimmy that I’m expecting you.”

Belle makes her way back into the kitchen, holding the cat carrier with a triumphant grin. Nicole hitches her chin up in acknowledgment before finishing her conversation with the veterinarian.

“Thanks, Dr. Eisenstein. We’ll see you soon,” she says and ends the call. When she pushes away from the table and goes to stand, her back cracks loudly. “That’s what I get for not moving all day.”

“And getting old,” her daughter chimes helpfully with a shit-eating grin that she could only have learned from Wynonna.

Nicole narrows her eyes and chuffs. “Your aunt is older than me, you know,” she grumbles, and her daughter just nods and continues to smile. “You two good to go?”

“Yep.” Belle pats the top of the carrier with her free hand. “Dr. Eisenstein said he can see us?”

“Sure did, monkey.” Nicole grabs her bag off the hook by the door, checking for her wallet and pulling out her keys. “You wanna start the truck? I’ve gotta run upstairs for a minute.”

Belle reaches for the keys that her mom offers her, but she doesn’t turn away or move toward the door. It isn’t hesitation or reluctance that holds her in place, that keeps her standing there biting her lower lip. It’s a thoughtful kind of quiet that settles between them with the meows of the imprisoned feline as the only thing breaking the silence.

Nicole can tell that this is one of those moments to be patient, to wait for Belle like she does for Waverly. Sometimes they need time to think through what they want and need to say. Time to gather their thoughts so when they share them, they come out right. So Nicole waits, a compassionate smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“It’s been ten years, mom,” she says and her tone is reticent.

Nicole waits a little longer.

Belle nods, slowly. “Almost ten years since… since. I’ve been around Aunt Wynonna and Doc and Dolls… and I know you’re a cop, mom. I know that you carry a gun, that you and mama have that safe in your closet. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

But she hadn’t been. She had been nervous around any sort of firearm after the dust settled, after the funeral, and after those first few weeks had passed. Nicole and Waverly had installed the gun safe before Belle even came to live with them; they’d done it when they were applying to become foster parents. But with Belle’s history, they were more than careful to try to keep weapons out of sight and out of mind.

It was difficult — they were a family of law enforcement officers, not to mention just about everybody owned some sort of gun in Purgatory. They made sure to sit Belle down and explain that yes, there were guns in the house but that they were in a safe.  They explained that their jobs were to protect people. The Sheriff’s Department and Black Badge. That the guns that they owned were tools to help them do that — serve and protect.

Nicole had pulled out her badge and offered it to the little girl. Belle traced the letters and the scales of justice with her fingers before looking up into warm, brown eyes. “Do you know what this badge means?” she had asked Belle.

And the girl shrugged, leaning heavily against Waverly’s side as they sat on the sofa. Her eyes dropped back down to the badge in her tiny, four-year-old hands. Nicole positioned herself on her other side, leaving a cautious amount of space between her and Belle. Because Belle was still unsure about her. But Waverly was safe, and the sheriff wouldn’t begrudge the child for that.

  
(She gets it; Waverly is her safety and security, too. Her anchor in the storm.)

  
Nicole tapped the badge gently with her index finger. She spoke softly and openly; she didn’t want the weight of her words to go unheard. “This badge is an oath,” she explained. “—a promise to serve and protect. It means that it’s my job to keep you and all the other citizens of Purgatory safe. It means that I will do everything in my power to make sure that nobody can ever hurt you again. I swear this to you, Belle.”

Belle had nodded, much like she had that day in the sheriff’s office when they asked her what she wanted. When she couldn’t find the right words and didn’t know how to ask for what she wanted. She hadn’t known that trying to say _yes_ could make her head swim with so many other words. But this time she understood, and she nodded and returned the badge to Nicole.

It was difficult, at first, trying to be mindful about their guns. Then it got a little easier. In time, Nicole, Wynonna, Doc, and Dolls also became safe. One by one, she came to know all of the deputies in the sheriff’s department, and one by one, they became okay, too.

  
(Price was first, and she had disassembled her service weapon on her desk and explained all the pieces, even if Belle didn’t quite understand everything. But knowing more helped a little.

Things aren’t as scary when you see them in the light.)

  
But Belle’s better now. She has been for a few years. And while she doesn’t think she’ll ever _like_ guns, she isn’t afraid of them anymore. She doesn’t hear a shotgun blast and a surprised yawp. She doesn’t catch a whiff of something acrid and sour and a little metallic. She doesn’t flinch when her mama takes her shotgun from the safe to go monster hunting with Wynonna. Doesn’t shy away when she sees a gun on the hip of a deputy that she hasn’t yet met.

“I know you’re going upstairs to get the compact that you keep on your ankle whenever you leave the house. I know you and mama have tried to be so careful in the house, even after I got used to Wynonna and Doc and Dolls and all of your deputies. You’ve been looking out for me since that day you wrapped me up in your coat and took me from that shitstorm.”

“Language,” her mom chides gently.

Belle shakes her head, a smile on her face. “I love you guys. Everything you did and everything you do to look after me.”

The snack basket. The gun safe. The camping trips to Little Elbow on the days surrounding the first of July to escape the sounds of fireworks in the air. Their advocacy for her in school. The _books_. All of the books.

Her smile widens and she meets her mom’s gaze with comfort and confidence and something a lot like love in her eyes.

“But I’m better. It’s okay. You don’t have to tiptoe anymore. You and mama — you helped me learn to be better. You taught me how to chase away the monsters under my bed, how to be brave even when I don’t feel like I am. You and mama and Alice and Nonna… everybody.”

There aren’t tears in Nicole’s eyes, and it doesn’t count as crying if she blinks them back.

 

**_Meeeoooowwrr._ **

 

They laugh together and the moment lingers between them. There’s glee in brown eyes and green eyes, and they bask in the feeling for a moment longer.

“When did you become so wise?” Nicole breathes, reaching forward to brush blonde hair away from her daughter’s face, tucking it behind her ear.

Belle just grins at her. “Probably around the time you got old.”

Nicole guffaws and shakes her head. She cuffs Belle lightly and playfully on the chin. “I love you, monkey.”

“I love you, too, mom. I’m gonna go start the truck now.”

 

 


	2. what the hell is a chirrup?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They keep the cat. Of course they keep the cat.
> 
> (Because kittens. Fluffy, floofy kittens, Nicole.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. This is still crack. Sorry not sorry.
> 
> Any and all mistakes are my own. I didn't say that in the previous chapter, but you probably know this by now.

**what the hell is a chirrup?  
**

 

 

_they come from a time and a place_  
_guided by the moon shining down_  
_shining down from outer space_  
_one is big, one is small_  
_they come with spots on them all_  
_\- 'queen charlotte of the hyenas' by paper lions_

 

 

They keep the cat. Of course they keep the cat. Especially once Dr. Eisenstein told them that she is definitely a _she_ and _most definitely_ pregnant. Because those words meant _kittens_ and thus, were the only words that stuck in Belle’s brain and the _first_ words she told her mama after she walked through the front door.

Waverly, naturally, heard _kittens_ and promptly agreed with their daughter.

“Fluffy, floofy _kittens_ , Nicole,” she said with wide eyes and the same shit-eating grin as Belle.

The two of them sat side by side on the couch with the newly dubbed Bandit Queen stretched across both of their laps, purring loud enough that Nicole could hear it from where she stood in front of them with her thumbs hooked into the pockets of her jeans. She hadn’t stood a chance. Not when both of her girls put on _the look_.

At least Waverly didn’t want to kill her over a cat?

“BQ will make a great mom,” Belle had said with a nod as she ran her fingers through soft fur.

So they keep the cat.

But now said cat is in her nesting box in the kitchen that’s really just a long file box from the office filled with stolen socks, a towel, and Belle’s childhood blanket. Said cat is nesting and licking and very much acting like she’s about to give birth at the stroke of midnight.

“All the symptoms match what Dr. Eisenstein explained,” Waverly says, flipping through the pages and pages of notes that she took on caring for a pregnant cat and helping her give birth. Nicole read through them earlier in the week once BQ started showing some of the signs that her wife told her to watch for. They were color-coded. With Post-It flags.

“It’ll come to her by instinct, right?” Belle asks, though Nicole can read the concern on her face. She isn’t looking for an answer so much as for reassurance.

They’ve only had the damn cat for a month but already it’s wormed its way into their hearts. Though she decided after two days that she is Nicole’s cat because Nicole feeds her when she wakes up at dawn. It might also be the case that she regularly, _accidentally_ drops a piece of bacon on the floor in the morning.

“It’ll come to her by instinct,” she repeats back with confidence. “And if, for some reason something goes wrong that we can’t handle, I’ve got Dr. Eisenstein on speed dial.”

Not that speed dial is actually a thing anymore. More like a list of favorite contacts in her phone. But the vet’s number is there and she’ll call if it becomes necessary.

They’ve slain ancient demons and dealt with werewolves and immortal men and a centuries old curse — helping a cat give birth can’t be more difficult than helping your sister push a baby out of her vagina on a pool table while a resurrected demon outlaw tries to smash your face in. Or organizing a covert extraction through a billionaire who you helped save from a crazy wish demon that made people pull out their own insides. Or battling a Legion-like entity that makes you steal shiny things and hurt the people you love for seven weeks before your friends and sister finally exorcise and kill it.

 

Except…

 

Except maybe helping a cat give birth is exactly like some of those things?

“Moms, are kittens supposed to look like that?”

Because Belle is closest to the nesting box and her eyes are wide with concern instead of with evil manipulation. And what she sees being birthed are furry floofs that don’t look anything like the pictures of newborn kittens that she looked up on the internet. Also, newborn kittens aren’t supposed to be so _mobile_ . She’s also pretty sure their eyes aren’t supposed to be _open_.

Because the first two kittens have entered the world with bright, violet-blue eyes and wispy gray fur that’s flecked with black.

“Uhhh,” Waverly’s expression matches her daughter’s before her brow furrows and she hurries to the nearby bookshelf that’s filled with magical texts and codexes.

Once Nicole catches a glimpse of the definitely-not-kittens, her finger hovers over _Wynonna_ in her phone’s contact list. Her free hand grips the back of Belle’s t-shirt and tugs her backwards several steps away from the box.

 

**_Chirrrup._ **

 

Two pairs of large ears pop up over the side of the box closest to them. Two pairs of intelligent and curious eyes follow soon after.

 

 **_Chirrruuuup_ ** **.**

 

Nicole kneels to draw the compact 9mm from her ankle holster, eyes never leaving the creatures watching her just as intently. “Waves…” she says lowly, hoping her wife will pick up on the warning tone to her voice.

Because Waverly is frantically flipping through a codex filled with sketchings of all sorts of magical beasts from the things of nightmares to beautiful unicorns. “I can’t find anything that matches their description!” When she pulls her nose from the book, she sees that her wife — her stupidly brave and beautiful wife — has positioned herself between her and Belle and whatever the hell those things are.

 

**_Chirrup._ **

 

**_Chirrup._ **

 

Two new sets of ears and eyes appear, though these are a lighter fawn with lilac spots and emerald green eyes that seem to _glow_. They chirp, too, and soon all four are canting their heads to the left and then the right like some sort of horrifying synchronous monster show.

“Moms?” Belle says nervously because she knows about the Earp curse and Doc Holliday and everything that goes bump in the night. She’s quite aware of the work that her mama does with Black Badge and all that it entails.

They have a bookshelf full of weird books in ancient Sumerian and Latin and Greek and some other languages that are long dead and forgotten. It isn’t as if Belle _didn’t_ go through every book she could find in the house once she was comfortable enough to wander away from Waverly’s side. But her mama’s right; she hasn’t seen anything in any of the books that look like these demonic cat things.

Their eyes are too bright and their ears are too large and the colors and markings on their coats are nothing like any cat Belle has ever seen. Oh, and their tails are plumed like a lion’s. Not to mention they’re already the size of the kittens she’s seen at the no-kill shelter.

“I don’t think…” She bites the inside of her cheek and sidles out from behind her mom. She tilts her head slightly to the left and the creatures soon dip their heads to the right. “I don’t think they’re dangerous? Or at least like… _gonna kill you this instant_ kind of dangerous?”

And then she’s stepping forward and both her moms reach to pull her back away from the sort-of-adorable hellbeasts.

But Belle, who is stubborn and brave and kind, is already on her knees before the box, holding out her hand with a tentative smile on her face. That’s all they need, apparently, because the infernal creatures clamber out of their nest and into her lap in a way that _does_ remind Nicole of awkward kittens. They’re _purring_ and _chirruping_ and Belle is laughing as they climb all over her.

 

**_Chirrup. Chirrrrrup._ **

 

Because two became four became six, and they haven’t set the house on fire or tried to eat their faces. Nicole takes a leap of faith and lowers her weapon.

“They’re kind of cute?” Waverly murmurs, wrapping an arm around Nicole’s waist. “And they seem to like Belle.”

“They’re _hellspawn_ , Waverly. _Spawn of hell_.” She can’t emphasize the _hell_ part enough. Especially because they have no clue as to what these things even are. But then one of them launches itself from Belle’s shoulder and lands at Nicole’s feet and looks up at her with luminous green eyes and—

 

 **_Chirrruuuup_ ** **.**

 

She’s a goner. Damn it.

She sets both her phone and her gun on the kitchen table before she crouches down low before the kitten-creature. Waverly’s hand rests steady and comforting on her shoulder as she holds out her hand, palm up, as a peace offering. It noses at her fingertips before sliding its entire face along the side of her hand.

“I think it likes you,” Waverly whispers and there’s a hint of laughter in her words because she’ll never grow tired of watching her wife melt into a mess of emotions because she loves so quickly and fiercely and brazenly.

She scratches behind its massive ears and it purrs and makes a sound that almost mimics a kitten’s mew. BQ answers it with real meow, and then Waverly is sitting cross-legged next to the nesting box and talking to BQ with whispers like, _You did so well!_ and _Six healthy kitten… things!_ Her face scrunches for a quick moment when she asks, _Are you a demonic hellbeast, too?_

BQ blinks tiredly in response.

“We should probably call Wynonna tomorrow,” Nicole says, even as she holds one of the creatures close to her chest and watches as the other five snuggle against her daughter who has taken to lying down on the wooden floor with her eyes closed. “Maybe she won’t have to…”

Belle’s eyes snap open and she sits up. The sleepy beasts beside her startle at the sudden movement but settle down again almost instantly. Belle, however, won’t be calmed so quickly. “Mom! You can’t let Wynonna use Peacemaker on them! They’re harmless!”

That’s the moment the smallest of the six wheezes and a puff of flame escapes its mouth, thankfully too small and dying too swiftly to set anything alight.

“Well, mostly harmless?” Belle amends, a little less impassioned than her earlier exclamation. “But you _can’t_. Look at how fluffy and precious they are.”

The floof in Nicole’s arms squirms until it’s on its back, eyes shimmering as it looks up at her with a face that absolutely isn’t cute or precious or any comparable synonym for adorable. She sighs.

“I’m going to call Wynonna.” Before either Waverly or Belle can protest, she adds, “And she’s going to come over here and we’re going to explain the situation to her. She isn’t heartless and if we’ve learned anything through all of this, it’s that not everything is black and white.”

“She’s right, _ma belle_ ,” Waverly says as she continues to pet BQ’s head.

Belle’s sigh turns into a yawn and she doesn’t miss the look that her moms share. “I know… go to bed.” She reaches out to say goodnight to each of the demonic kittens with a pat on the head and a scratch behind the ears. “Good night, little hellspawn. Good job, BQ.”

“Good night, Belle.”

“Sweet dreams, monkey.”

“Night, moms. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” they say in unison.

And once Belle has disappeared up the stairs, Nicole returns the creatures to the nesting box. Much to their chagrin, it seems, if their glowering is any indication. But they stay next to their mother and curl up into a pile of floofs. Well, all but one. The one she had held in her arms scrabbles to freedom and back into Nicole’s arms.

Waverly giggles and Nicole glares at her, though she really can’t be mad at all with a purring hellbeast nestled in the crook of her elbow.

 

“Wynonna’s going to flip her shit.”

 

 


	3. oh the insanity, calamity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You have what in that house?”
> 
> Yeah. Flipping out an accurate description of Wynonna’s flailing with Peacemaker already in one hand.
> 
> “Supernatural kittens. Maybe demonic hellbeasts?” Nicole shrugs her shoulders as if that isn’t one of the most absurd statements she’s ever said aloud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not sorry.

**oh the insanity, calamity**

_arms set down, howls of war all are drowned_  
_the hunter and the thief laugh aloud_  
_cackling croon on a cloud_  
_as the moon pulls the tides_  
_their crimes are all set aside_  
_in the mist of the night_  
_they're singing songs and bringing peace_  
_\- 'queen charlotte of the hyenas' by paper lions_

 

 

“You have **_what_ ** in that house?”

Yeah. Flipping her shit is an accurate description of Wynonna’s flailing with Peacemaker already in one hand.

“Supernatural kittens. _Maybe_ demonic hellbeasts?” Nicole shrugs her shoulders as if that isn’t one of the most absurd statements she’s ever said aloud.

 

(It’s not. Not by a long shot. This is what you get when you go all in with the Earps.

She’d do it all over again. In this life or in any lifetime.

She already has.)

 

“You have _maybe demonic hellbeasts_ in the same house as my _sister_? My _niece_? Your **_wife_** and **_daughter_**?”

Wynonna is halfway to charging into the house to leave hellfire scorchmarks all over their nice wood floors when Nicole grabs her by the arm and holds tight. Because she had called her best friend five hours later once the sun had started to rise. And called and called until she finally answered with, “Fuck you, Haught.” But she stayed on the line as Nicole told her that they might have a slight supernatural situation and could she please come over?

Nicole had sat on the porch with a mug of coffee in her hands in an effort to fight her losing battle against exhaustion and sleep deprivation. She had wanted to intercept Wynonna before she could storm into the house, guns ablazin’.

She heard the roar of the motorcycle a few seconds before she watched Wynonna take the corner onto the street a little too sharply for Nicole’s comfort. She realized in that moment that it might have been a better idea to wait until later in the day and _not_ worry the chick with the big ass magical gun at the asscrack of dawn. Too late. She’ll blame her fatigue later.

She met the older Earp in the driveway.

“What’s the sitch, bitch?” Wynonna cracked as she pulled off her helmet, already drawing Peacemaker from her hip. “And where are Waverly and Belle?”

Nicole lifted her hands in a calming gesture, though she really only managed to splash hot coffee down her arm. She clenched her jaw and bit back a curse. “Waverly and Belle are in the house,” she said once she found her own cool again. “Let me first say that everybody’s okay and we don’t think anybody’s in life-threatening danger.”

Wynonna squinted her eyes skeptically. “Haught, what the hell is going on?”

“Our new cat BQ had her kittens last night and they might not actually be cats?” It came out as more than a question than an answer, which is how they ended up where they are now. Nicole with her heels dug in and refusing to let Wynonna fire away at those… whatever they are.

“Are you insane, Nicole?” Wynonna yells, throwing her free arm into the air in exasperation. “Did you hear what you just said? Supernatural kittens. _Demonic hellbeasts_. In what universe is it okay to have something like that anywhere near your family?”

“Look. I know it’s insane, Wy. It’s _absolutely_ crazy, especially for me. But you know I would never do _anything_ to endanger my family, and that includes you, Alice, Doc, Dolls, and Jeremy. And I need you to trust me, okay? Please, Wynonna?”

It’s been over fifteen years since Nicole came to Purgatory and fell in with their wonderful and strange little Scooby gang. Since she found her family with these weirdos and made her home in this crazy town in the middle of Nowhere, Alberta. She’s been to hell and back with these people. She has forged her most meaningful relationships surviving that hellfire.

  
And she knows Wynonna feels the same way.

Because they’ve both been outsiders looking in. The one that doesn’t belong for one reason or another. That others see and shy away from with hateful words on their tongues. There’s something to be said about knowing what it’s like to be alone, even when you’re surrounded by people.

  
“Please, Wynonna?” she says again, and she slackens her grip around Wynonna’s arm until it’s more pleading than restraining.

Wynonna holsters Peacemaker. “I’ve trusted you with the most important people in my life, Haught. I’m not going to stop now. So, yeah, I trust you. I just hope you’re not wrong about this.”

“I’m not,” Nicole tells her, and she’s confident in her statement because she and Waverly had discussed it for almost an hour after Belle had gone to bed. They talked and counted the risks, and they came to their conclusion together; the world has always been mostly shades of gray. Sometimes you have to take the chance to see what it means in the end.

She starts back toward the house, listening to Wynonna’s motorcycle boots clomping just behind her.

“They’re in the kitchen,” Nicole murmurs quietly, not wanting to wake up Waverly or Belle. “Just don’t start shooting, okay?”

“I won’t. I promise.”

They creep into the kitchen and toward the nesting box.

 

**_Chirrrup. Chirrruuuup. Chiiiirup._ **

 

Wynonna jumps when she sees them. “What the fuck, Nicole?” she whisper-shouts. “Your cat gave birth to _those_ things?”

BQ stares up at Wynonna from beneath her fluffy pile of hellbeasts. And if cats have an unamused look, that stare would be it.

“It’s like a cross between a cat, a lion, and one of those fennec fox things. Jesus Christ, Haught. What the hell did your kid bring home?”

Nicole kneels on the floor beside the box and the little fawn and lilac beast with the emerald green eyes leaps onto her shoulder, using its siblings as a launching pad. The others grumble and chuff but stay settled against their mother. She pushes back to her feet and walks slowly toward Wynonna, trying not to spook her friend and also trying to prevent the creature from toppling to the ground.

“This is Pigeon,” she introduces and the thing chirrups again from its perch on her shoulder.

“You _named_ them?” Wynonna throws her hands into the air, shaking her head in disbelief. “I thought _I_ was the stupid one in this family!”

“Just this one,” Nicole defends. “It followed us up to bed and slept at my feet.” She frowns. “Waves and I might have started brainstorming names for the others, though?”

“Nicole. How am I supposed to shoot them when you gave them _names_ ? When you’re obviously already head-over-heels in love with these demonic hellcats. I kill monsters, Haught. That’s what I’m _supposed_ to do.”

“Wynonna.” She uses her sheriff’s voice and immediately Wynonna stands a little straighter, trading amicability for suspicion but gaining acute attention to whatever she says, too. Nicole peels the hellspawn from her shoulder and shoves its face into her best friend’s — at least as close as she dares. “Look at this face. This adorable face with the ears and the eyes and the _everything_. Tell me it isn’t adorable.”

Wynonna takes a step backward so she’s not staring cross-eyed at the creature. “It’s a little adorable,” she mutters. “Just a little.”

“If you tell me right now that they set off alarms in your head, that your gut tells you that something is wrong with these hellcats, that they’re dangerous… I’ll trust you, Wynonna. I’ll trust you and Peacemaker and we’ll take them out back and you can do your thing.”

She doesn’t have to draw Peacemaker to know that these things aren’t out to hurt her or her family. Because Nicole is right; they don’t feel _off_ like the revenants did or other demons and more nasty supernatural creatures might. They’re just weird. Weird little demonic hellspawns that apparently her dumbass sister and sister-in-law _named_.

“You’re right,” Wynonna says with a tired sigh. “You’re right. They don’t set off my Spidey-sense.” She flops into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. Nicole’s smile is far too chipper for this early in the morning and Wynonna tells her as much. “Tone it down, Haughtshit. Not all of us plan on being awake before noon.” She squeezes her eyes shut and groans.

“I’ll make you breakfast and a fresh pot of coffee,” Nicole offers.

Wynonna cracks one eye open, staring first at the hellcat that’s still on Nicole’s goddamn shoulder and then at the idiot herself. “Coffee. And I could murder a stack of pancakes.” She closes both eyes again, listening to the sounds of breakfast-making in the morning and the clunk of a ceramic mug being set on the table beside her.

“Hey, Wynonna?”

She opens her eyes fully. The hellbeast is back in the box and Nicole is leaning with her back against the kitchen counter, chewing at her bottom lip. Wynonna knows this game, too. Patience and giving the space she needs to say what she wants to say.

“Thanks. For trusting me.”

Wynonna has to swallow around something thick and heavy in her throat before she gives a stuttered sort of nod. Because it isn’t just about the damn demonic kittens. Or coming over at shit-o’clock in the morning. It’s about so much more, and Wynonna nods again before she finds her voice.

“Thanks for believing in me.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's how this story goes: a bunch of nerds about this awesome tv show start thinking up crazy shit in a chatroom. Like a Calamity Jane who has been impregnated by some sort of demonic creature. And then this scenario/prompt pops up:
> 
> "wynonna has a bit of a crisis because on one hand, these are demons so she has a duty to kill them right? but they're so cute and hardly do anything dangerous aside from hacking up the occasional flaming hairball. eventually there's just six demon cats running around the homestead... because she knows that if she killed them, the wynaught brotp would be ruined."
> 
> I had to try to write it, you know. And me being me, I tend to think that Nicole Haught is likely the sort of responsible pet owner to get her cat spayed ASAP. As such, it wouldn't make sense for CJ to be pregnant ( _do you know what spaying is?_ ). So, I fit it later into this AU and gave you this dumpster fire. This 5k+ dumpster fire.
> 
> Come yell at me on [**tumblr**](http://awol-newt.tumblr.com) or [**twitter**](http://twitter.com/awol_newt).
> 
> Also: Pigeon is named after [**_that pigeon_**](http://sensitive-pigeon.tumblr.com) of course. And BQ is named after [**the Bandit Queen or Belle Starr**](https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/belle-starr-the-bandit-queen).


End file.
